


Shooting for a Miracle

by Fangu



Series: Balfran smut (and kink) collection [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Banging for a Baby, Established Relationship, F/M, Interspecies Relationship(s), Magical Pregnancy, Smut, hahaha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:41:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangu/pseuds/Fangu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viera and Hume don’t breed. Balthier, however, doesn’t believe anything presented to his ears until he has tried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shooting for a Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> This story is one of three standalones originally written very early on as part of the ‘Ally: Life’ universe. By the time I finished the main story, I felt these standalones no longer fit with the final version of the story, and so they were scrapped. Originally ‘Ally’ had a much cheesier ending, including an Epilogue where Balthier and Fran had a daughter named Irie. This is basically the story of how she was conceived.
> 
> I no longer see this story as a canon part of ‘Ally’, but please do enjoy it for the cheesy piece of Balfran relationship smut that it is :)

For years they failed to reach each other, and now that Fran has him in her arms, she is reluctant to let him out the front door, even for the tiniest errand. She needs him with her all the time, preferably unclothed, the tiniest fabric a cruel denial of his skin. Balthier keeps reminding her Viera shouldn’t be this lecherous, to which she simply responds by pressing into him.

Fran knows this would be easier for him were he the same age he was when they first met, not a grown man of the age of two and forty. She does give him a chance to breathe - sometimes she even lets him off for an entire day. When his children comes to stay with them, he is allowed several. Even for enjoying her time spent with them, the moment Fran closes the heavy, wooden front door to focus all her attention back on Balthier, she finds herself vibrating with anticipation. She does not pay attention to Snow’s half done feathered arrows or Serpent’s bottles of mixtures laid out on the dining table, nor does she mind stumbling over Fira’s stuffed toy chocobos spread all over the living room floor.

She’s been a glowing entity of lust for him for weeks. She sees no end to it - her appetite for him is absolute, a feeling so new to her it never ceases to puzzle her. Even for Balthier complying happily most of the time, some nights what he can offer simply is not enough - breathing the fresh night air, she slips a hand down under the light summer sheets while he is sleeping besides her - quiet not to wake him - whimpering softly as she finds her release.

Today is a warm day. Balthier is sitting by his desk wearing his spectacles, reading through some documents related to his work. Fran sits in the windowsill of the tall, open living room window, breathing the fresh air, looking at a group of Hume kids playing outside. The room smells of old books and summer.

Fran looks at him, running fingers over her collarbone.

“Yes?” Balthier says.

Fran smiles. “You must have misheard, my dear, I did not utter a word.”

He looks up at her, sits back in his chair and removes his spectacles. “Are you sure?”

He’s toying with her, the bastard. It is like he can smell it, her urgency. That, or it really is like betting on the Coeurl in the Cockatrice race.

“Do not tease me”, she says, pouting the way she knows he likes it, the words coming out slightly more flimsy than intended.

Lightning shoots down the center of her body as he rises from his chair. When he reaches her, he arranges her legs to wrap around his waist, first the one, then the other. “Balthier, with those kids outside watching?” she whispers happily, breath inhaling hard as he puts his arms around the small of her back to press her frame firmly against his. “Hmm”, he says, breathing ever so slightly into her neck so the small hairs there stand up. “I think I want room to manoeuvre.”

When he picks her up and carries her off, Fran is torn between sighing happily, or feeling guilty for yet again being so demanding. As he tips her down on the bed, her mind is firmly occupied by the latter of the two. When Balthier places a slow, wet kiss on her neck, then starts pulling off her shirt, she is pretty much drained for thought. She uses her feet to help him remove his trousers, sighing pleased at the sight of his hardened cock as he sits back to help her remove the last of her clothing.

When he puts his tongue to her cunt, she moans without shame.

She is his. Whatever he does to her she subdues, gasping like a maid, not a care in the world for how she appears or sounds. In this, there are no breaks.

Balthier treats her delicately, lazily tonguing her, but this surging need will not be denied. “Please” she whimpers, feeling him smirk against her flesh, yet again deprived of the honour of making her come with his mouth. Balthier does not mind. As he pulls her down towards him, his laugh is tender. As he sinks into her, his expression turns to sole lust.

Fran exhales as she finally has him where she wants him. She bends her head back, silver hair spread everywhere, her sweat mixing with his to make their thighs stick. She thinks about how she can no longer think, all of her senses focused on where their bodies merge; this simple, primal act of raw lust, of bodies interwoven, that absorbs them so.

She’s not going to last very long, she knows - sometimes they take their time and make something out of this, but right now it is only a matter of hammering this orgasm out of her system. Her arms tangle around him, knowing she is near; he knows too - bracing himself with knees and hands to pick that right angle he has learned works so well for her.

It takes him three strokes, four, five - and she unravels with raw sound, her body clenching around his, sighing loudly as the final wave washes over her. As she stills, Balthier’s lips are on hers, kissing softly.

She enjoys waiting for his orgasm, however long it takes. She works to his advantage, feeling him slowly thicken, his upper lip curling into a sneer. His eyes closes as he gasps, his entire body hardening as he spends inside her.

She rakes her claws gently down his back until his breathing returns to normal.

~

Fran lies on her back staring at the ceiling, moving her knees slowly in a circular motion. Balthier is on his stomach next to her, trying to sort out some of her sweaty, tangled hair.

“Fran”, Balthier says.

“Mhm”, Fran says, trying to catch a fly above her head.

When he doesn’t continue, she turns to look at him.

“Do you ever worry this will have results?”

She has to think for a second before realizing what this is about. Right before she and Balthier got together, he had mentioned not believing anything until he had tried - referring to Fran saying how she’d never heard of a successful Hume Viera crossover, and how her not being able to bear him children was one of the reasons she rejected him so many years ago.

“The odds are not on our side”, Fran says.

Balthier plucks on a piece of hair stuck on the sheets in front of him. “What if we could make them be on our side?”

Fran smiles gently. “You are not content with three?”

“I always thought I would have at least ten.”

Fran chuckles.

“You have looked into this.”

“Not specifically… but magick might be an option.”

Fran has never thought of magick being used for something like what they are discussing, but she has heard of Esuna and Float being used to create successful breeds of six-horned cattle. Fran thinks about Balthier’s children, particularly Snow - the first time she held him, how strangely natural it felt. She’s grown fond of his children, wanting all that is good in this world for them. The thought of sharing a child with Balthier is something she hasn’t paid much thought to, as she feels, in a way, she already has a family. But she suspects she’d welcome motherhood, having someone to raise with love and companionship like Claire and Balthier did with their three children.

“I wonder if it would have my ears”, she ponders. “And maybe your pointed nose.” She snickers. “Maybe we should rethink this.”

Balthier smiles warmly at her, putting his free arm around her waist.

~

The magick store they enter is dust-worn and old, a distinct atmosphere of authenticity to it. Fran walks past the aisles of ancient literature, spotting books whose authors are unknown to her, even for her many years.

Having heard the bell, the Nu Mou enters from small room in the back. He greets Balthier where he stands by the desk, nodding a good day to Fran when he spots her.

“So, how may I help you two?”

Balthier studies the items on his desk. “We’re here in a… rather special errand. We heard you might be able to help us.”

The Nu Mou scratches his chin. “Well, I do the occasional odd request, that much is true… I am getting old though, no longer up for the more vicious kinds of black arts - but today is a fine day. Tell me my Hume master, what you wish to inquire, and I will tell you if it can be done.”

Balthier chews on his words. “We’ve heard you know how to… crossbreed.”

The Nu Mou looks at Balthier, then his gaze shifts slowly to Fran. His eyes light up with understanding.

"Ah."

"Well," he says as he walks over to a bookcase behind the counter, "you are certainly not mistaken by your inquiry. I have done successful junctions before - some not so successful ones too," he adds, waving it off - "-- but that was beginner’s bad luck with a few monsters on the first ones I tried. I have been known to make some really successful blends in my time. Poison spewing Vyraals and flying Coeurls."

Balthier raises an eyebrow. "Well we're not exactly in want of a show pony. There are no special requirements for skill, as long as the outcome is life-strong."

"Either way," the Nu Mou says, taking a book down from the shelf, "the father can wish for this as much as he'd like, but he's not exactly going to contribute with much." He snickers. "From earlier attempts, I have experienced it can go down hard on the mother - the carrying, and sometimes the birth as well. I can not promise it will be any different for other races. It has to be her decision." He looks over at Fran.

Fran nods determined, once.

The Nu Mou signals for them to come closer. Fran joins Balthier in front of his desk.

“It is several spells. Some has to be cast as preparation, some has to be cast… during.” He grunts. “I can not tell you specifically when to cast it, some of it is even optional - I can only explain the basics and then leave it up to you. And,” he says, “it will cost you.”

“More than a one-man freighter?” Balthier asks.

“That, and maybe a couple of two-hand swords.”

Balthier looks at Fran. She believes her own face to be entirely straight.

“See what you can do”, Balthier tells the shopkeeper. Fran’s hand finds his.

~

They take the magick items home, silently carrying the bag with care. At their home, Balthier places the bag and its contents in one of the shelves in his bookcase, then they deliberately forget about it. They even make love a couple of times, not paying attention to the obvious elephant in the room that is their breeding potions.

It isn’t until the day comes where the weather has been gloomy all day that Balthier puts down his half read newspaper and gives Fran a look.

Fran nods. “We should do this or not do this at all”, she says.

Balthier is sitting cross-legged on their bed, only wearing his trousers, as he pulls out the first flask of the bag. “Do you want the honors, or should I?” he smiles crookedly. Fran shakes her head, sitting across him.

He unleashes the content and casts it. His perimeter turns a shade of green. A strange silence follows.

The first step is done.

“I didn’t feel anything”, Balthier says, sounding relieved. “Well then”, he smiles and leans in for a delicate kiss, which she answers carefully at first, then she pulls him closer as she savours his taste.

They kiss for the longest time, longer than they’ve done for a good while, as if they need time to get into the right frame of mind. Their clothes come off carefully, while fingers, lips and tongue do the work. In many ways, it feels a bit like the first time they slept together under the sky of the Ozmone. Their motions are unsure, like they were that night - this time, however, they have a comfortable bed to utilize.

Fran is on her back in said bed, Balthier slowly pleasuring her with both hand and tongue. He has taken his sweet time with her, not rushing a single thing, insisting she let him make her come this time. After all, it is recommended.

She focuses on not focusing, and as she finally shatters, her skin shivers from the intensity of an orgasm sparked by his fingers. She sees and senses the cloud of purple spread around her perimeter.

“Two”, she whispers as Balthier lays down besides her.

Still on their side, she traces a path of kisses down to his lust, halfway covered under the sheets as she reaches to tease him softly with her tongue. She knows him pleasuring her can sometimes drive him wild, and judging by the hardness her mouth now meets, she is not surprised to hear him whimper with desire. She slides her hands up his backside, his thighs, his stomach, moving upwards, then takes him into her mouth. She hears him sigh into the sheets, his finger playing gently with the tip of one of her ears as she works him slowly. She can not allow him to come, but she enjoys doing this for him.

When she pulls away she makes sure he is properly covered in her saliva. As she sits up and tips Balthier onto his back, straddling him, slowly massaging his wet cock with her hand, he groans.

She hovers over him for some time just to tease. “Fran”, he says as she bends down to nibble at his neck, hand on his cock still. “Do you want this?” she taunts, stroking his cock lightly against her sex. His voice is rasped. “You know I never wanted anything more in my life.” At that she eases down on him, taking him very slowly, feeling the burning inside her rekindle as he fills her.

She moves slowly, the friction between them delightfully scarce. Balthier traces a finger down her body, starting from between her breasts, letting it slide over her stomach, down towards the stubborn patch of white hair as he wears a punch-drunk smile. Fran looks down at him and studies the face she has learned to love so intently. Not just love - trust. She enjoys him for what he is, feels comfortable in her skin when she is with him. She never wants to take another lover. Life ends - and starts - with her Balthier.

He is closer than she believed. To her surprise she finds him struggling with his breathing already. “Should you try for another release, you probably need to go now”, he groans. She leans down to spread her weight on her elbows as well as her knees. “Don’t worry about me”, she hums as she leans down to bite his earlobe, then feels him grab her waist to control her into more friction. She lifts her gaze to look at him; his eyes are shut, his face almost looking pained. He is close, so close.

She almost forgets, but next she searches and finds the third and final bottle.

She sits up, presses a hand against his hip to still him, then watches his face twist with delight as he lets her take full control. His chest rises and tenses - “I’m not gonna last much longer” he says with teeth grit, remembering that which Fran had almost forgotten. His breath catches for that one split second - and as he lets go, Fran tips the lid off the bottle, a smoke of red filling the room as Balthier spills his seed inside of her.

His breath is ragged as she leans down to kiss him tenderly. He strokes stubborn strands of silver hair away from her cheek, gently caressing one ear, kissing her chin and bottom lip.

“Three”, he whispers, red smoke still lingering heavily above them in the room.

~

They awake the morning after, entangled in sheets and each other, morning sun peeking in through the curtains. Spread around the bed lies three small, empty bottles, in the bed resting two blissful lovers, who, no matter the results of their efforts might be, rest satisfied in each others arms.

Though she has no reason to be sure, Fran believes she knows the result of their attempt weeks before the Nu Mou confirms he may now add a new entry to his list of successful crossings.

 


End file.
